


Glass Box

by Sunny_Moonbeam



Category: Spies Are Forever - Talkfine/Tin Can Brothers
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2020-04-05 04:56:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19041559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunny_Moonbeam/pseuds/Sunny_Moonbeam
Summary: I take constructive criticism and "Fuck you"s on Tumblr @melofthewizards





	Glass Box

_Dark!_

  
That’s the first thought Owen had when he opened his eyes: _It’s so dark!_

  
He looked around, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness, to his outmost surprise, they never do.

  
_The fuck kind of place is this?_

  
He gets to his feet and decides to move; where? He has no idea. He can’t just stand there in total darkness though, that’s for sure.  
  
What’s most odd to him however, is the noise he hears. It’s almost like… traffic? Is he in a street? He thinks he should be; he can hear music in a distance, maybe he’s in New York, or somewhere in Austria or Prague? Jesus Christ WHERE IS HE?  
  
He focuses the senses he can use, he can’t smell anything which seems quite odd, he can’t see anything except the pitch black dark; however, he can hear all sorts of things. Different languages being spoken, car horns, ice cream trucks, music, chatter, laughter.  
  
His ears picks up the sound of laughter, it’s familiar.

  
_I know that sound_

  
He moves in its direction. What he doesn’t notice, is that the closer he gets, the weaker the rest of the sounds he used to hear become. He notices a white light, he moves towards the source which seems to be the source of the laughter he’d heard. If he had paid attention to his surroundings, he would’ve seen that the light wasn’t reflecting off of anything; wherever he was, he was alone.  
  
He came to a stop when he saw the source of the white light. A table, set with white tablecloth and napkins and dinner plates, plates of food and glasses and pints of drinks set all over it. That wasn’t what caught Owen’s attention.  
  
It was Curt, sitting behind the table, Tatiana to his right and Barb to his left. Owen saw Cynthia and Curt’s mother chatting and laughing joyfully. He saw his family; his father having a heated conversation with Curt and Tati, before Owen had the chance to worry, his father threw his hands in defeat and broke into laughter, the rest of his companions following suit.  
  
His mother showed Mrs. Mega a handicraft and pointed towards Odette, her work no doubt. Owen could see his sister blushing as Mrs. Mega took the soft fabric from his mother and admired it, complimenting Odette in flattering words.  
  
Olivia was eating her favorite Apple Pie as she discussed something with Barb; something about the latest scientific achievement, Owen was sure. Nothing he could ever hope to be able to pronounce, let alone understand. Ophelia and Tati had fallen into a loud debate over who had had the most dangerous missions lately, Curt joining in shortly after it had begun.  
  
Owen saw movement around the table. His niece and nephew, Lizzie and Joey, chased each other around the table and laughed out loud, Owen smiled at the scene fondly.  
  
Even Oliver was here! Not indulging in any conversations, he was sitting on the ground as he played with Agent, throwing him his favorite toys as Ellie scratched behind his ears. She looked happier than Owen could remember.  
  
Owen had never seen a more peaceful and beautiful scene in his life. It was like seeing his deepest, most desired wish in the depth of his heart come to life in front of him, his eyes were wet with unshed tears of joy; he crossed his arms, posture becoming relaxed. He heard them laugh and talk and chat and be happy and accepting of each other. He saw the family he always dreamed of, gathered in a single frame before his eyes.  
  
What he didn’t notice was that there were only four empty chairs around the table.  
  
Oh how much he wanted to be a part of this, to join them and speak with them; to tell Curt, Tati and Ophelia that they can stop arguing because his were the most dangerous, daring and probably stupid missions between the four of them.  
  
He wanted to kiss Odette’s red cheeks, push her loose strand of red hair out of her emerald green eyes and tell her how much he loved her, that she meant more than the world to him, the strongest, fiercest, most brilliant person he’d seen in his life; to reassure her that he was gonna make all the bad things go away, that he was gonna make it alright.  
  
He wanted to give his mother, his beautiful mother who stayed by his bedside all those times he was sick, who patched him up and whipped away his tears every time he fell, who loved him unconditionally despite most things, a grand hug; tell her he forgave her for every mistake she made the second he rose up to his feet in front of their house all those years ago when his parents kicked him, a 16 year old, out of their house, promising never to speak his name again.  
  
He would sit and admire the conversations Curt and his father had. He’d lost count of the times he’d thought to himself exactly how much his father would’ve loved Curt; only if they’d met under different circumstances.  
  
He could see Curt’s shock in his face and eyes when Cynthia and him joked around like old buddies, he’d freak out so much! The mere thought brought Owen to laughter.  
  
Oliver and he could play that duet they always talked about. He knew how much Oliver always wanted to preform Beethoven’s Violin Sonata No.9. He’d promised Oli they would do it one day, on the same night he was kicked out, never to see him again; at least until Ophelia and him were assigned the same case nearly 10 years later.  
  
He would listen to Ellie talk. She was too smart, way older than her age. Owen trusted her judgment more than he did his own. A conversation with his daughter over tea at 3 in the morning was probably the most soothing experience he’s ever had in his life. Where would he be right now if Ellie hadn’t tried to pick Curt’s pocket that afternoon in the market? He doesn’t know, he never wants to consider the possibilities!  
  
And Curt. God! He doesn’t know what to say, where to start. He could get lost in Curt’s hazel eyes for days and weeks and years and never feel the passage of time. Days were seconds with him and every second was worth more than all the riches in heaven and earth to Owen. He spoke six languages and he could never find the words to express what he felt for this man in any of them (which said a lot considering he spoke French –the language of love– as well as English.)  
  
His feet seemed frozen when he tried to move them. He was still stunned by the scene before him. Slowly, he got his feet to move.  
  
God, how he wished he’d never done that!  
  
You see, when he took a few steps forward, he knocked his head against something.

  
_Jesus Christ!_

  
He took a step back to examine the barrier.

  
_Wha… what the fuck is this?_

  
It seemed to be a wall, made of glass.

  
_Okay, I’ll go around it._

  
He moved, anxious to get to his family. He knew happiness was a few steps away and he wasn’t gonna let it slip through his fingers. He kept his hands on the wall, since he couldn’t see it, he used his sense of touch to detect where it was.

  
_Come on come on come on… YES!_

  
He’d reached the end of the wall, he prepared to walk past it; his hand caught a corner.

  
_What?_

  
He took a step back

  
_No! No no no! What… what IS this?_

  
He felt hopeless. He took enough steps back to see the structure. It was a…

  
_Is that… a cube? Who puts a glass cube around people? What the fuck?_

  
He circled it a few times, trying to find a way in.

  
_It can’t be a cube! They somehow got inside, right? There has to be a door. Like… a box? Is this a box?_

  
Who would go to such lengths to build a fucking glass box this big? Probably the same idiot who thought putting people inside that glass box was a good idea!

  
Owen started to calm down: _it’s okay, I’ll just knock on the wall and they’ll open whatever door they came through for me!_

  
With that thought in mind, Owen went forward; he raised his hand and knocked on the glass.

  
Nothing.

  
He knocked again, louder.

  
Nothing.

  
_What? They probably can’t hear it._

  
“Hey, guys!” he called.

  
Nothing.

  
“Hey! It’s me!” his voiced had raised in volume.

  
Nothing.

  
“Mom, Dad! Look! It’s me! Owen!” he tried again.

  
Nothing, not a single turn of a head.

  
“Odette?” his voice was starting to get desperate “Odette!” he called loudly, he knocked on the glass.  
She told Joey to stop pulling his sister’s hair.

  
_What. Is. Happening?_

  
He started to move around the box, his movements becoming more frantic as he called them, desperately hoping for an answer.

“Oliver?”

  
Nothing

  
“Cynthia?”

  
The chatter continued, his dad saying something, filling the room? Cube? With laughter.

Tears were forming in his eyes.

  
“Tatiana?” his voice was shaking.

  
Oliver accepted the plate of roasted potatoes Ellie offered him.

  
“Olivia?” he shouted “Ophelia?” desperation laced in his voice “why can’t you guys hear me?”

  
He put his hand on the wall, pushing forward, maybe he could break it.

  
“Barb?” he tried again a few minutes later, regaining some stability.

  
He heard a cheerful laughter; the laughter of a young girl.

  
“Ellie?” he begged “Ellie, please! Is this a joke? Is this a prank? Ellie?” his tears didn’t allow him to continue “can’t you see me?” he pleaded slowly, his voice broken in sobs, he leaned his forehead against the wall.  
  
He couldn’t, he didn’t dare. There weren’t many people left for him to reach out to; he tried, he called out his niece, to his nephew, to Mrs. Mega. He pleaded and begged and sobbed and called again and again and again.

  
Nothing.

  
It was his last resort. He was afraid, scared he wouldn’t hear him, wouldn’t see him like everyone else. But he had to try. Curt was his last resort, his last hope, the final string keeping him standing.

  
“Curt?” he whispered, and held his breath.

  
To his outmost joy, Curt raised his head and looked around, as if he had heard something, only to look past Owen as if he weren’t there, as if he were made of air.

  
“Curtis, honey, what is it?” Owen heard Mrs. Mega ask.  
  
“Nothing. I… I thought I heard something, someone.”  
  
“Curt, there’s no one else here. Are you alright?” Barb asked, concerned.  
  
“Yeah, yeah. It was nothing, I just imagined it.”  
  
“NO!” Owen screamed “No you didn’t imagine it. Curt, baby, I’m here! Curt, sweetheart, listen! I’m here! It’s Owen! Your Owen! Curt! CURT!” He broke down, his knees giving in. He fell to the ground, hand still pressed against the wall “I’m here!” he cried “why can’t you hear me? Why can’t you see me?” he broke into sobs again, gasping for air as he cried. He punched the wall with all the force he had, desperate. He punched, and banged, and screamed out for his family to hear him, see him, anything.

  
Nothing.

  
He stopped eventually. Out of breath, tired, he sat and leaned his back to the wall. Why was he fighting so hard? He was alone, abandoned. Images, figments, memories filled his sight:  
  
His mother screaming at him, telling him he’s not her son. Swearing to never speak his name again.  
  
His father, beating him, kicking him in the stomach, doing it sober for the first time, holding him from his shirt collar, dragging him across the entrance hall, throwing him out of the house, slamming the door behind him.  
  
Odette, looking at him with sympathy in her eyes “I’m sorry Owen, I tried, and they wouldn’t even listen! I think it’s better that we don’t see each other for a while”  
  
Olivia, refusing to see him when he had pneumonia and was dying “I’m sorry Owen. I don’t have any free appointments.”  
  
Ophelia, asking for a different partner behind his back. He heard about it from his boss when he was called in to get the information on his new partner.  
  
Oliver, not remembering him when he finally got to go home for his father’s funeral, asking him who he was and what he was doing there.  
  
Cynthia, blaming him for Curt’s mishaps “he was fine before you got involved!”  
  
Tatiana, with her accusing glare when he revealed himself as DMA, judging him.  
  
Barb, looking at him with hate and jealousy, knowing he was dearer to Curt than she was.  
  
Ellie, screaming at him, tears streaming down her cheeks after he came back. He’d made her cry, she didn’t want him.  
  
Curt, leaving him behind as the warehouse burned around him.  
“I liked you better when you were dead” his words burning scars into Owen’s soul.  
  
Why would they hear him? Why would they see him? He was hateful! They didn’t want him.  
  
They had every right to!  
  
Maybe his vision was blurry, but he sensed the light dimming slowly.  
  
_What? No! What’s happening?_  
  
He looked behind him. The box was fading away.

  
_NO!_

  
They didn’t want him. But he wanted them!  
  
They hated him. But he loved them.  
  
They never needed him, but he needed them with every single cell, every fiber, and every inch of his being.  
  
He couldn’t lose them, not again. Never again.  
  
He looked around him, nothing, pitch black dark. The rest of the world, he understood now. He didn’t care about the rest of the world, he cared about breaking that stupid glass box!  
  
He searched and he searched. Nothing, he didn’t have anything. He remembered the little diamond ring he’d gotten for Curt; it was resting in his sock drawer when he last saw it, if he had it with him, he would’ve broken the box.  
  
Hopelessly, he watched as the box faded into nothingness. Leaving him in the dark, again.  
He sat there on the ground, the sound of traffic, the sound of life surrounding him. He didn’t care, his life had disappeared in front of him and he’d done nothing, there was nothing he could do. He sat there, alone and tired.

***

  
“Owen? Owen baby? Hey…” he heard.

  
_I know that voice._

He jumped awake, cold drops of sweat resting on his forehead, his breathing uneven.  
  
“Hey, hey, hey, you’re okay. It’s alright, it was just a nightmare. You’re okay.” He heard the voice again

  
_CURT!_

  
He turned to face him “Curt?” he whispered, so low even he could barely himself.  
  
“Yes my love. I’m here, it’s okay. You’re okay, you’re safe… why are you crying?”  
  
He was crying? Huh. He hadn’t noticed. He didn’t care; Curt could hear him. His Curt could hear him. Nothing else really mattered.  
  
“You… can hear me!” he tested.  
  
“Of course I can hear you! I’m not-“Owen cut him off by pulling him into a tight embrace “you can hear me!” he cried into Curt’s shoulder “you can hear me!”  
  
“Shhhhhh… you’re okay. I’m here now, I’m not going anywhere! I’m right here! Here, see? I’m solid, constant, I’m never gonna leave.” Curt soothed him, rubbing his back gently. He laid them down slowly, Owen’s head resting on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. He knew Owen didn’t want to talk about it yet, he didn’t ask.  
  
“Curt?”  
  
“Yes my dear?”  
  
“I… I want to… can we go see my mom sometime?”  
  
Curt hesitated, Owen’s mother had left deep scars on her son, and some had never really healed; but Owen was in a fragile state of mind right now “Of course.”  
  
“I want to play that duet with Oliver too.”  
  
“The Violin Sonata?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Well talk to him about it, he’s staying over for a few weeks isn’t he?”  
  
“He is? I forgot!”  
  
Curt planted a kiss on top of Owen’s head, whatever had gotten him this shaken?  
  
“Curt?”  
  
“Yes my love?”  
  
“Can Ellie hear me too?”  
  
Again with the hearing! “Of course she can!”  
  
A deep sigh of… was that relief?  
  
“Okay, good.” Curt felt another question coming “hey, Curt?”  
  
“Yes sweetheart?”  
  
“Will you marry me?”  
  
“Of course I will” Curt’s answer was unthought-of; he blurted it out, subconsciously. He would’ve given the same answer if he were given years to think about it so, what’s the difference?  
  
Curt kissed Owen once more “get some sleep my love.”

**Author's Note:**

> I take constructive criticism and "Fuck you"s on Tumblr @melofthewizards


End file.
